


Coach 3

by grey853



Series: Coach [3]
Category: Queer As Folk - US, the Early Years
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied Child Abuse, M/M, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-17 11:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/grey853
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian deals with problems at home as his relationship with his coach changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coach 3

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This contains an account of explicit sex between a  
> minor and an adult. It also deals with abuse. If that bothers  
> you, don't read this. There is no explicit sex between Brian and  
> Michael.

**Coach 3**  
by Grey  
[Grey853@aol.com](mailto:Grey853@aol.com?subject=Coach%203)

* * *

Brian fingered his damaged lip and stared into the mirror, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent against his pale skin. "Fuck." He shook his head as he turned away from his dresser and sagged down on his bed. Running a hand through his brown hair, he shut his eyes. In his mind he played over the lies, the stories he'd make up to cover the bruises. Taking a deep breath, he headed downstairs, his gym bag in his hand. 

In the kitchen his mother sat at the table sipping coffee, the morning paper open to the latest in home fashion. "Mom." 

Glancing up, she nodded, her brown eyes bloodshot. Only in her forties, she looked ancient despite the precision hair cut and detailed make up. "Did you make your bed?" 

"Yes." 

She paused, pursing her lips, the words distasteful. "Your father's sorry." 

"Sorry's bullshit." 

His mother stood up and walked to the stove, the frown creasing her tired face. "You know I hate when you talk to me like that." 

"Sorry." 

"You want some breakfast?" 

"Not really." 

"Sit down. I made oatmeal." 

Shrugging, Brian pulled out a chair, the pain in his shoulder complaining as he leaned back. "Has he already gone to work?" 

"A few minutes ago." She busied herself pouring the thick mush into a bowl and placing it on the table. Nudging the milk and sugar closer, her voice toughened, the words sharp and cutting. "You're just like him." 

Meeting her eyes, he glared. "I'm nothing like him." 

"You are. You push. It's like you enjoy the fighting." 

"That's not true." 

"What about the drinking?" 

Rolling his eyes, Brian crossed his arms and shook his head. "He's the drunk, Mom, not me." 

"You're only fourteen, he's a grown man. It's bad enough he indulges. You know how I abhor excess. Now you're doing the same thing." 

"I'm not." Brian pushed away the bowl and stood up. "Besides, he wasn't pissed about me drinking, only that I drank up his whiskey. You should leave his sorry ass." 

Long-suffering, she shook her head. "He's my husband." 

"And I'm your son." 

"We all have our burdens." 

Dizzy, the air too thin, Brian picked up his bag and headed to the door. "Brian, wait." 

"I'm going to be late." He jerked away, slapping away her hand as she reached out to touch him. "Don't." 

"He's your father. We have to make allowances. The church says so." 

The words spilled out, the anger like thick venom. "He's a selfish prick. I fucking hate him." 

"You don't mean that." 

"Just like he didn't mean to hit me." 

"He was drunk. You went out your way to make him angry." 

"Fuck that. He's an asshole." 

Yanking open the door, he headed out, his mother calling to his back. "You just have to try harder." 

Brian stormed down the steps and headed to Michael's place, thoughts of someday beating the shit out of his father thundering through his head. 

* * *

"Jesus, what happened to you?" 

Brian shrugged and sat down gingerly on the edge of Michael's bed. "I'm fine. Let's skip school today." 

"You're not fine and we can't skip. We've got that test in biology, remember?" 

"Oh, yeah." 

Michael sat down beside him, his hand carefully touching the side of his mouth, his dark brown eyes concerned. "Your dad?" 

The lie tripped and didn't make it out, not to Michael. "You can't tell your mom." 

"She's bound to notice. Fuck, everyone's bound to notice. What are you going to say? Nobody will believe you ran into a door this time." 

Brian fell back, the mattress bouncing as he sighed. "I've got a cousin in from Jersey. We were wrestling and it got out of hand." 

"Fuck." 

"What?" 

"You do that too easy. I almost believe you and I know better." 

Brian rubbed his forehead with one hand. "Got any aspirin?" 

"Sure." 

Lying still, Brian waited, his eyes closed, his head still throbbing, the hangover made worse by the pounding at his temple, up his right arm, and across his back. All the bruises reported in at once, bitching and moaning abuse. Fuck that. Forget about it. He sat up, determined. He couldn't let the sick fuck win. Ever. 

"Here. Take these." 

Brian studied the white pills in his friend's outstretched hand and snorted. "Midol?" 

"It's all my mom has." 

Shrugging, he took the offered medication and glass of water. Swallowing them down, they left a bitter taste. "Nasty." 

"My mom swears by them." 

Brian patted his belly. "Do I need tampon or can I borrow Deb's?" 

"Fuck you." Glancing over at the clock, Michael picked up his bag. "We need to get going. We're going to be late to homeroom. We'll get detention." 

"Fuck detention." 

"Come on, Brian. We need to go." 

"Back me up on the cousin story." 

"Sure. What's his name?" 

"Butch." 

Michael shook his head as he headed down the stairs, Brian following behind, moving a lot slower than usual. Stopping at the bottom, he frowned. "How bad did he hurt you?" 

"I said I was fine." 

"I know what you said. Now answer the fucking question." 

Avoiding sad eyes, Brian pushed past his friend and headed out the door. "I can handle it." 

"He's an asshole, you know that, right?" 

"Yeah, I know that." 

They walked quietly together, the air heavy with impending rain. Pulling up the collar of his jacket, Brian kept pace with Michael instead of walking a little faster like he usually did. Michael stole a sidelong glance. "Brian?" 

"Yeah?" 

"What about your mom?" 

"What about her?" 

"Why doesn't she stop him?" 

Brian didn't answer, couldn't. Didn't have a clue. 

"It's just that if someone hit me, my mom would kick his ass out." 

"Your mom's different." 

"Is she? Aren't moms supposed to take care of their kids?" 

Brian halted, the anger swelling up. "Fuck, Mikey. Don't tell me what moms are supposed to do, okay? Dads aren't supposed to fuck over their kids, but they do it all the fucking time. Leave it the fuck alone." 

"I'm sorry." 

The soft voice defeated his rage for the moment. Brian hooked the back of Michael's neck and squeezed gently. "It's okay. Let's not talk about it." 

"Sure." 

Smacking the back of his friend's head, he smiled. "Come on, let's go give you a cheap thrill." 

"Cheap thrill?" 

"Yeah, Astin's giving a biology test. You know how it turns you on, watching his tight ass walk up and down the rows. You know you've got the hots for the man." 

"Fuck you. I do not." 

"Do, too." 

Surrendering, Michael laughed. "Well, maybe just a little. He's got the cutest bubble butt." 

"And not a bad package." 

"Especially when he wears his blue suit." 

Brian headed off to school, Michael by his side as always. 

* * *

"Hey, Kinney, run into a door again, man?" 

Brian pursed his lips, his emotion tightly contained as Danzinger walked up to his locker. "What's it to you?" 

"It's nothing to me. It's just that you look like shit, that's all." 

For once the words didn't come out as a taunt. Pressure eased in his forehead as he recited his lie one more time. "I've got a cousin in from Jersey. He's a senior on the wrestling team. He was just showing me some moves." 

"Better move faster next time." 

"I'll do that." Instead of stripping to shower, Brian opened his locker to get out his regular clothes. He'd change in the bathroom stall and the longest day of his fucking life would finally be over. 

"Kinney?" 

Turning, he met Daniels' concerned eyes. "Yeah, Coach?" 

"I need to see you in my office." 

Gut tight, Brian nodded, reluctant to move. "Let me change first and I'll be right there." 

"You can change later." 

He dropped his clothes back in his locker and slammed it shut. Michael's eyes followed him through the doorway until the older man closed it and sat down on the edge of his desk. "Have a seat." 

Brian remained standing, his arms crossed, his body set for battle. "What's this about?" 

"Where'd you get the bruises?" 

"I've got this cousin..." 

"Don't bullshit me. I'm not buying that crap about the cousin from Jersey." 

Startled by the abrupt interruption, Brian swallowed hard. "That's what happened." 

"Bullshit. You didn't get beat up wrestling." 

"Can I go now?" The words strained through clenched teeth. 

"No." Daniels stood up and then moved to sit behind his desk, his face grim, his voice more strained. "As your teacher, I'm supposed to report suspected abuse. " 

Brian snorted and shook his head. "And does that include you letting me suck your cock?" 

Ignoring the challenge, Daniels pressed harder. "This isn't the first time you've come to school with bruises. Who is it, your dad?" 

"What the fuck do you care?" 

"I care." 

"Bullshit. You got your cock sucked and now you think you owe me. You're the one who's fucked up, not me." 

Biting his lower lip, Daniels leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of his face before he lowered them. "Look, what happened between us shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry. But I can't stand by and let you get beat up just because I'm afraid you're going to expose me." 

Light narrowed briefly before Brian moved to sit down on the small couch across from the coach's desk. He took several long moments to compose his thinking, his world tilting. "You can't tell anyone." 

"Tell me what happened." 

From a great distance, his voice told the story. "I got home from Michael's. Nobody was home, so I took my dad's Jim Beam up to my room. I jerked off thinking about you." He stopped long enough to take in Daniels' pained expression, his throat tight with the knowledge of his power to inflict such a strong reaction. "Anyway, by the time my mom and dad both got home I was pretty drunk. I tried to play it off, but my dad got pissed and slugged me a few times." 

"And it's not the first time." 

"No." 

"You know I'm required by law to turn this in." 

"It won't do any good. It'll only cause problems. Besides, I'll tell them I got hurt fighting." 

"Why would you lie?" 

"Because it doesn't matter. I'm going to leave as soon as I can anyway." 

"Brian, look at me." 

Forcing his head up, Brian met the deep blue eyes. "I swear, Coach, if you tell anybody about this, I'll deny it." 

"Does your dad know you're gay?" 

Shocked by the question, Brian sat even further back against the cushion. "No, and you can't tell him. It's none of his fucking business." 

"What if he finds out? What would he do?" 

"What the fuck do you think?" 

"You need to find someplace safe to live." 

Brian stood up, his world still unsettled. "Look, I know you're trying to be helpful, but I can fucking take care of myself. When it gets bad, I go to Michael's. I'll be fine." He stepped to the door, his skin cold and clammy. "Just promise me you won't tell anybody. My mom couldn't stand that." 

Daniels moved beside him, his hand on his shoulder. "I won't say anything this time, but you have to promise to leave if it gets bad. I don't want you getting hurt." Reaching into his pocket, Daniels pulled out a card and a twenty dollar bill. "Here." 

Stunned by the gift, Brian shook his head. "What's this for?" 

"It's my phone number and address. If something happens, you can call or get a cab to my place." 

"What good would that do?" 

"It would keep you safe while I call the police on his sorry ass." 

"You mean that?" 

"Yeah, Brian, I do." 

Brian shook his head and stuffed the money and card into his pocket. "Thanks. I'll think about it." 

"Think about something else, too. I've got an opening on the track team. I think you'd make a great long distance runner." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. Think about it and let me know. We start training in a few weeks." 

"Freshmen don't usually make the team." 

"Freshmen don't usually have the talent you do." Daniels smiled and opened the door. "Go on and get dressed. The bell's about to ring." 

Walking back into the locker room, Brian spied his friend's anxious face. He turned back to Daniels briefly. "What about Michael? Could he be on the team?" 

"Novotny's not a runner." 

"Maybe as assistant manager or something?" 

"Maybe. We'll see." 

Nodding, Brian headed off to his locker while Daniels went back into his office and shut the door. Michael whispered, "What the fuck was that all about?" 

"He wants me to join the track team." 

"Really? He didn't mention the bruises?" 

Instead of answering the question, Brian opened his locker, grabbed his clothes, and headed for an empty stall. 

Michael talked through the door. "You want to come to my house for dinner? Mom's fixing lasagna." 

"Not tonight, Mikey." 

"Why not?" 

"I've got other plans." Brian reached into his pocket and pulled out his coach's address, his mind zooming forward to his fantasies for the night. 

* * *

Having only been in a cab one other time in his whole life, Brian studied the world flying by with an edgy wonder. As soon as the car stopped, he paid the man and got out. The cab drove away and he walked up the driveway, the house very similar to his own. Van Morrison's velvety voice and jazzy style filled the air as he knocked on the door. Only a few moments passed before the door opened and a stranger snapped, "What do you want?" 

"I'm looking for Coach Daniels." 

Dark eyes narrowed as the muscular man studied him, his ebony face shadowed in dusky light. "Did Ray know you were coming?" 

"No. Who are you?" 

"I'm his roommate, Edward Jackson." Uneasy, the older man looked out to the street. "How'd you get here?" 

"He gave me cab fare." 

"Fuck. You're Brian Kinney." 

"He talked about me?" 

Reluctantly, Jackson stood back and opened the screen door more. "I guess you'd better come in. He'll be back soon." 

Stepping inside, Brian scanned the room, the furnishings so different from his own home or Michael's. African blankets covered the sofa while exotic, hand-crafted masks decorated the walls. A huge stereo system filled most of the left side of the room. Jackson walked over and turned down the volume. "You thirsty?" 

"I could drink. Got any beer?" 

Jackson chuckled. "Good try, kid." 

"I'm not a kid." 

"Riiight. You want Coke or an orange soda? 

"Coke's fine." 

Motioning towards the sofa, Jackson headed for the kitchen. "Have a seat. I'll be back in a minute." 

Instead of sitting down, Brian prowled around the room, checking out the strange art work, one elongated statue in particular catching his eye. He picked it up and then set it back down quickly. "Shit." 

"What? You don't like wooden cocks?" 

Flushing, he turned and looked up at the man who towered over him. "I prefer the real thing." 

"So I've heard." Jackson handed him a glass and then sat down on the sofa, his eyes trained on Brian. "Why are you here?" 

"I told you, to see the coach." 

"I can see now why he did it." 

"Did what?" 

Jackson tilted his head and smiled in amusement. "Don't fuck with me, boy. You have no idea how you've fucked with his head. Then again, maybe you do. Is that why you're here, to fuck with him some more?" 

Unsettled by the directness, Brian avoided the intense gaze by moving to glance out the window. "I just wanted to talk, that's all." 

"Just talk? Dressed like that?" 

Brian looked down at his tight jeans, his black T-shirt, and leather jacket. "What's wrong with how I'm dressed?" 

"Not a damn thing. That's the problem, but then you know that. You sucked him off once. You're not going to get a second chance." 

"Who the fuck are you anyway?" 

"Have a seat and I'll tell you a story." 

Resenting the superior tone, Brian glared, but sat down at the other end of the sofa, putting his drink on the table. Tense, he crossed his arms. "So what's the story between you two?" 

"Ray tells me you're good with secrets." 

"Daniels talks too much." 

"Actually, he doesn't. He's worried about you." 

Reaching out, Jackson touched Brian's swollen lip before he could jerk away. "Don't do that." 

"My dad used to smack me around, too." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. Look, Ray told me about what happened because he was upset. We share things. We've been together off and on for a couple of years now." 

"Fuck." 

"I have to admit to being a little pissed about what happened between you two. It was stupid, but seeing you, I can understand why he did it." His voice lowered, the husky sexiness of it bringing Brian's cock to attention. "You're beautiful." 

Brian pushed the eager hand away and stood up. "I need to leave." 

"Why? Afraid of what might happen?" Hungry brown eyes stared at him as Jackson relaxed, his arm across the back of the sofa, his voice sultry. "You're not my student. I don't have to worry about getting fired." 

"What about Daniels?" 

"What about him?" 

"You said he was due back soon." 

"I lied. He's not coming home for another couple of hours." 

"Fuck." 

"If that's what you want." 

Not sure what he wanted, Brian stood motionless, the man's attraction suddenly looming, drawing him closer. "I've never fucked." 

"I figured. I can make it good for you. It can be our secret, just like your secret with Ray." 

Panic mixed with anticipation. "Daniels wouldn't have to know?" 

"No." Jackson stood up, gliding gracefully next to him, his arms wrapping around his waist. He kissed his temple and purred, "The bedroom's upstairs. Come on, baby. Daddy's going to make it feel so good." 

Brian pushed away, suddenly pissed despite his cock begging for contact. "None of that daddy/baby shit or I'm out of here." 

Nodding, eyes incredibly black with desire, Jackson agreed. "Sure thing, hon. No endearments. Got it." 

Taking his hand, Jackson drew him up the stairs into the bedroom. Once there, he stripped off his own jeans and shirt quickly before slowly peeling off Brian's jacket and T-shirt. Heaving a deep sigh of appreciation, he licked a trail down Brian's chest and nibbled at his nipples while he unzipped the boy's jeans. Fear sizzled into passion as Brian fell back on the king sized mattress, admiring the massive black cock jutting in his direction. 

Smiling, Brian reached out only to have his hand swatted away. "Not yet, boy. Let's see what you've got first." Rough hands pulled off his shoes, then his jeans and underwear to reveal his own leaking erection, his balls throbbing in the cold air and aching as the hand fondled him for inspection. "Fuck. Very nice." 

"Thanks." 

"I mean it. For a white boy, you're well hung." 

Before Brian could respond, Jackson leaned down to kiss and lick the end of his cock. Then his whole body tensed as the larger man suddenly lifted his body and shifted it higher on the bed. Straddling his chest, he shoved his cock closer. "Suck it, Kinney. Suck it like you did Ray's." 

"We were standing up." 

Not really listening, Jackson moved his hips in closer, his voice a scraping hush. "Open wide and suck it like a good boy." 

Obeying mutely, Brian managed the width without choking, his throat and lungs rebelling as Jackson held both sides of his face, his cock thrusting and building a rhythm. The heavy musk filled his nostrils and the weight buried his chest, kept him from breathing at all. Light blurred as he suckled the heat, the slickness shoved between his already swollen lips. Blood and the coppery tang slicked his mouth and Jackson suddenly stopped. "Fuck. You're bleeding." 

Withdrawing, he reached for a Kleenex and wiped Brian's mouth. "I'm sorry." 

Brian spat and grabbed the tissue while Jackson scooted back, his ass just over Brian's still hungry cock. "It's okay." 

A huge hand cupped his face. "It won't last forever." 

"What?" 

"Putting up with your dad. I left when I was sixteen." 

Swallowing hard, Brian shook his head. "I don't want to talk about that." He lowered his voice and grabbed the hand caressing his face, his want swelling inside him. "Let me fuck you." 

Eyes narrowed as Jackson leaned forward, his tongue swiping Brian's ear. "What makes you think I won't fuck you?" 

"Because you'd rather I fuck you instead." 

A throaty chuckle vibrated his skin as Jackson teased his nipples. "The boy wants a piece of ass, huh?" 

"Oh, yeah. You'd be my first real fuck." 

Jackson stilled and lifted his head, his face deadly serious. "Okay, but do you know what to do?" 

"Sure." 

"Really?" 

Brian smirked. "Fuck, yeah. I read porn." 

Laughing out loud, Jackson shook his head. "Real life's different, hon. There's lube and condoms in the drawer, but you don't have to get me ready." He stretched out and rubbed his cock next to Brian's. "Just slick me up and do it." 

Horny as hell, Brian moved quickly to fetch the items required, his hands slippery with the lube before he rolled on the condom. Jackson moaned and flipped over on his belly as Brian used a slick finger to push extra gel into the opening. Hips lifted higher as the younger man used one hand to steady himself against his lover and the other to guide his cock to the pucker hidden between the muscular asscheeks. His whole body shuddered as his crown slid inside, Jackson's pitiful begging for more spurring him on. 

Kneeling between spread legs, Brian rocked, each stubborn shove taking him deeper, the grip on his cock pure heaven. Sweat trickled down his face as he pumped, his spine tightening, the pressure building as he buried himself inside the man beneath him. 

God. 

He loved fucking. His own hand never compared to the triumph of fucking ass, of being inside someone who wanted him to fuck him harder. Settling into an urgent rhythm, his thighs trembled, his muscles aching as he rammed in over and over. His back stretched as his bones melted, his power building in his brain, the world spinning. Eyes squeezed shut, he breathed in the heavy aroma, the rich earthy scent as Jackson jerked hard beneath him, grunting as he finished. Still pounding, Brian concentrated, bringing his cock almost completely out before slamming it in, his efforts rewarded with bright flashes and shimmers as spasms caught his belly and cock, his skull exploding with precious tremors. 

The world finally settled and stopped spinning, the buzz of coming fading slowly. 

A low groan brought him back to attention. "Goddamn motherfucker knows how to fuck." 

Smiling broadly, Brian lifted himself up and withdrew carefully. He threw away the used condom and reached for a wipe on the side table. A hand captured his and he stilled. "You sure this was your first time, kid?" 

"I'm not a kid." 

"No shit." 

Smugly, Brian handed him the wipe and grabbed another for himself. "I need to go. I've got school tomorrow." 

Jackson sobered and sat up, casually wiping himself before resting back against the headboard. "Promise me you won't tell Ray about this." 

Mood broken, Brian stood up and reached for his jeans, his heart no longer in the present. "Like the coach said, I'm good with secrets." 

* * *

The End


End file.
